


Monster: Obsession

by MissIrreplaceable



Series: Obsession: A Vampire's Love [1]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Murder, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Other, Possessive Behavior, Royalty, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, noncon, young klaus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 22:33:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12397608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIrreplaceable/pseuds/MissIrreplaceable
Summary: When he was a young vampire, Niklaus Mikaelson was bent on traveling the world and experiencing his new life. He stumbles upon a kingdom of people and quickly finds himself more than enamored with the Queen's daughter, an enchanting young princess. The night she is to be wed, he steals her away from her family and everything she's ever known, leaving nothing but the shattered remains of her people and a burning kingdom in his wake.





	Monster: Obsession

I've been believing in something so distant  
As if I was human  
And I've been denying this feeling of hopelessness  
In me, in me

I have nothing left  
And all I feel is this cruel wanting

'Lost in Paradise ~ Evanescence'

 

From the first time he saw her, she set his heart ablaze. 

It had been amazing, almost illusory. 

He fell for her hard and fast. 

He saw her reflected in every portrait. It was her in every painting he crafted, he could make out her image even in the stars in the sky.

Oh, how he loved her. 

He could still feel the way her hair, wild and unruly, curled around his finger tips. He could still taste her skin on his lips. The way her soft, umber flesh felt under his hands.

Her eyes, wide and bright and golden-orange under the thicket of her tightly curled tresses. Her voice, sweet and soft and melodic. He could still smell her when he closed his eyes and feel the gentle press of her full lips against his own, when he dared to think of anything, anyone else.

His hands trembled just above her limp body. A sliver of air stood between his skin and hers. Blood marred her pretty face and the pristine white sheets he had laid her down on. The now-thickened red fluid dripped to the grey stone floor, staining it. 

Her eyes were open, glazed over and dull. She stared at nothing. Her lips were parted, the crimson trickle cool and still from where he ardently tore open his wrist and poured himself into her, praying it would fix her.

It hadn't. 

And so she lay as she had for hours and days, still and empty.

Her silken skin had been ripped apart, leaving her back and arms bleeding, torn and bruised. Eventually, the blood had stilled. She had grown cold. 

He stayed, kneeling by her bed, tear tracks trailed down his cheeks, despite that he ran out of tears hours ago. Now, he sat and waited eagerly by her side for her to wake up. He was the picture of a lost child, a broken man. 

"Nik," Rebekah whispered. 

He felt her hand softly grasp his shoulder, he flinched away from her gentle touch. 

She lets her hand fall back to her side. 

"Nik, we have to move her."

"She can move when she wakes up." His voice was rough, quiet. 

"She's not going -."

"No." He cut her off abruptly. 

"She's dead, Nik!"

"No!" His bellow was loud and harsh, making his sister recoil at the sound of it. She turned and walked out, leaving him alone again. 

He hears her footsteps fade down the stone hall and sighs. He glances up at her from beneath his fair eyelashes.

"She's sleeping," He says, as if Rebekah were still there. His voice was whisper quiet, not wanting to startle the girl. 

 

She'd wake up, just like she did before. She just needed time. 

His hand brushes against her forehead, moving the now matted and sticky dark hair out of her face. Even like this, stiff and pale, she was striking to him. 

His jaw clenched at the feel of her cool skin. His hand moves over her eyes, closing them, protecting himself from their harsh, demanding gaze. 

'Niklaus, no! Wait!'

He closes his eyes tightly. Shakes his head to clear it from her desperate voice. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, gently grasping her soot-covered hand, "I'll be back before you wake up, love." His voice is thick, but soft and sweet like honey. His fingers delicately stroke the side of her face, his thumb swiping her pouty bottom lip. 

He leans down, giving her a quick kiss. He tastes both his and her blood on her lips. 

He leaves their room, and walks into the dark. The soft sound of his footsteps on the stone echoes throughout the open hall. Climbing down the stairs and into the open room, he gazes at the mess before him. His sister stood before him, perfectly still in the middle of the wreckage. 

A mess of glass and blood covered the floor, the furniture broken and strewn about the room. The fire crackled and hissed, the orange glow illuminating most of her pale, pretty face. The flame highlighted the tears in her eyes that had not yet fell. 

"Where's Elijah?" She whispers, her voice cracking on her other sibling's name. 

He says nothing. Instead deciding to call upon the few servants they had left in the house and compelling them to clean the mess up. 

If it was gone, it never happened. 

'Niklaus, please!' Her voice echoes in his head. 

If the glass was picked up, she never fell. If the blood were sopped up, she was never cut. If the broken chairs, shattered dishes and split table were thrown out, she never stumbled over them in her haste to run from him and he never threw them about the room in his anger. 

'You don't understand, I didn't-!'

The expression of panicked fear never marked her face, nor tainted her soft scent.

He never grabbed her so hard that she whimpered. She never cried or called out for his brother.

His selfish, treacherous brother. 

And her. 

His love. 

His salvation. 

She was everything to him. His whole world. And his brother had tried to... to take her from him. To "save" her from him. 

After all, who could possibly want him when they have the choice of his reserved, noble elder brother. 

Him, the monster. 

The bastard. 

And who deserved her more than his brother? 

"We got into a bit of a row," he says finally, the words rolling off his tongue slowly. 

"What did you do to him?"

He doesn't answer. 

"Fine. I'll find him myself."

He watches as she turns, storming off to find her brother. 

His brother, his lover, his sister. 

Everyone always left him. 

His back pressed against the cool stone wall, he slides to the floor, his knees brought up to his chest. 

The room is dim, the only light coming from the small fire in front of him and the crescent moon above. 

The flame turns his long, dark golden hair a soft orange, his eyes, glazed over and wet, shimmer in the gentle glow. 

He crosses his arms atop his knees and rests his chin on them, like he did when he was a child. 

Before, when she had found him just like this, she whispered his name and kneeled next to him, wiped his tears away and breathed soft assurances and sweetness into his ear. 

She had swore that she would stay by his side and sealed her honeyed promises with kiss after kiss. 

He had swept her into his arms and held her all night. 

She lied to him. 

She left him, too. 

"Where has everyone gone?" 

The utterance echoes ever so slightly about the empty room. 

He was to be alone. 

Always and forever.


End file.
